


Stress Sensitivity

by Spacegaywritings



Series: Bad Therapists have a special Place in Hell [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Bad Therapy, Gen, Stress, Tags vary per story!, invalidating disorders, invalidating struggles, please check the notes!, u!Emile!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26668036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacegaywritings/pseuds/Spacegaywritings
Summary: Virgil is so sensitive to stress, he regularly breaks down. Emile tells him stress is important for work and he needs to try harder. Yes, stress only has motivational factors. /s
Series: Bad Therapists have a special Place in Hell [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940389
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Stress Sensitivity

**Author's Note:**

> Tags: trauma, stress, stress sensitivity, invalidating issues and trauma and stress, personal stressors, breakdowns, bad thoughts, panic, anxiety, helplessness, ridiculing names, drowning metaphors, humiliation, metaphors of physical injury, literally laughing at issues, stuttering, started responses, vigilance, barging in, sudden appearances, loud obnoxious therapist, feelings of worthlessness, forced happiness, creepy therapist, questionable methods, cognitive distortions, derealisation, gifted child, implication of shit parents, mentions of trauma, dismissive treatment, denial, cognitive restructuring - manipulation edition. Heyho capitalism mindset, WOOWOO hustle culture, doubt, insomnia, somatic complains, mentions of doctors.
> 
> Disclaimer: writing based on subjective experiences based on therapy, mental health issues and (LOCAL) stigmas. You might have better/worse/different experiences with your struggles and how they were perceived and treated. Your culture or surroundings might have different bias. This is for venting and does not objectively apply to everyone’s experience of their mental illness or struggles.
> 
> [let us hope this works!]

White walls framed Virgil as if in a mugshot. The clinically clean and clear picture sneered on him whenever he looked up.  
Virgil decided to keep his eyes down. The floor was light, the walls were albino and he felt as if he was drowning in the anticipation for the therapist to come back to him. This was his first session. They were supposed to assess his issues and see whether and how Emile can help him.

Everything would be okay, he assured himself.   
Not knowing things really seemed to be the worst to his nerves. What if scenarios raced through his mind and tired him out. He was dizzy and sick, palms sweaty.  
All he felt was these white walls laughing at him from their stance of perfection while he was curling up on the beige couch, feeling lonely.

He said there, rocking a bit back and forth to calm himself, to ward off further panic - worse panic. Hopefully for betterment, he took a deeper breath. Shakily, he closed his eyes and focused on himself as he had learned from an emergency worker. He felt his panic wane away until the door flew open so violently, it crashed into the wall next to it with its metal handle.

“Hello! Virgin, right? Great to see you!”

The sickeningly sweet voice fuelled his nausea and Virgil looked at the therapist as if in a haze of intoxication.

“V-Virgil”, he corrected with a meek voice. There was no ground below his words. They were between reality and delirium much like he was during moments of panic.

“Ah, yes. I must have had a pen over your name, then. My mistake.”

He pushed the door close, the lock clicking.  
Shivers ran down Virgil’s spine but he swallowed it away, forcing himself to focus on the white walls, the endless barriers of a room that seemed to come closer and closer.  
He took another breath.

“Excuse me? I am talking to you, Mister.”

Bile slung itself at him and Virgil looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

“Y-yes. Sor”, he hiccuped, “-ry.”

At once, the shadows abandoned the therapist’s face and he beamed the darkness away like an explosion. It was all gone.

“Now, I will repeat myself just this once. It is rude not to listen, Virgil~”, he giggled, emphasising his playfully teasing tone, “I am Doctor Emile Picani! Now, which issues bring you here?”

Another set of chills cooled him to the core but Virgil forcefully shrugged it off like the nuisance it was to his life. He cleared his throat and the therapist tapped his pen against his clipboard. It was to the rhythm of the clock - the time - he was losing time, time time-

“S-stop!”, he snapped.

Virgil hugged his knees.

“I- sorry”, he sunk into himself and curled his fingers around the end of his sleeves. The nails dug into his palms, feasting on his own flesh.  
“I need.. help..”

Emile rolled his eyes, falling back into his chair.

“I know, silly. This is why you are here.”

He giggled once more. Virgil almost vomited.

“I- um.. uh.. I have”

The therapist raised his eyebrows, making an annoyed sound and tapped on his watch.

“Stress. Stress b-ba-bad.”

His opponent sighed in exasperation but put on a strained smile. His lips were in the right position but his eyes seemed to try and eat Virgil alive.

“I, um.. have, have really bad a-a-anxiety”, he managed to explain slowly. A small break passed before he continued, “I ca-can’t w-work and I g-g-get scared a lot.”

Emile squinted at him.  
Briefly, Virgil wondered himself whether he was stuttering so much, the other did not understand him. His thoughts surrounded him in a circle, closing in and coming closer, even closer.  
Worthless, useless. Not even able of talking.

He bit his lips and abandoned the thoughts.  
The therapist would snap at him if he did not pay attention. He felt like a scolded cat seeing the spray bottle.

“You get scared by.. your work?”

Enthusiastic nods.

“Ah. You are a student.. a worker? I can’t tell with age anymore. These days, age looks ageless. You could be 80 for all I care.”

He shook his head. Emile narrowed his eyes.

“I know you are not 80, I was making a joke. Take a joke.”

His heart thumped louder than his words would ever be.

“I- I’m sorry!”

Emile nodded, his eyes rolling automatically.

“S-student.”

The therapist laughed.

“AH!”

Emile hunched over, dissolving into his own, echoing laughter. His arms rose up before embracing the therapist in his own amusement. Virgil wished he could curl up even more and take care of the jab in his heart. He knew it was not real but it felt like a dagger splitting the flesh in his chest.

“You are a student and get anxious about your work? Don’t worry! That is normal. I hear tons of these!”

OH.  
Oh, this was good.  
Virgil almost thought about smiling at the news.

“Yeah?”

Hope rose on his face like the morning sun. It lit up his face and accentuated the features he had hidden away in his knees before. For once, he dared to look at Emile for a bit longer than just a brief moment.  
He could see a pink tie. Good, good. Reality seemed a bit less foggy and unreal. Beige ...clothing thing.. black glasses. Pen, black shoes.

“Of course it is, silly.”

Emile smiled.  
It seemed warm, somewhat assuring but something about it disturbed Virgil. His mouth was into it, his lips were really smiling and his eyes seemed so much more involved in the emotions. There was something in it like.. it reminded him of a bully, somehow.  
He did not know. He was probably just being stupid with his stupid thoughts and stupid fears. Emile was there to help him. The dude was a doctor! So much more than he would ever be.

“So.. I-I am fine?”

The therapist smiled and nodded once more.  
His lips seemed to stretch all over his face, maybe further.

“Feeling stressed and having anxiety is so normal as a student! You don’t really need help. I can give you some coping mechanisms right now and you should be fine!”

A light shone in Virgil’s chest at this. He nodded eagerly, his position slightly uncurling.

“Is-is it really normal? I mean.. I can’t s-sl..sleep! And-and I have pain a lot and panic attacks.”

The doctor crossed his legs and leaned back. He could see the sneer in his eyes. Despite the good news, a feeling of dread ate away at the light inside his chest.

“Don’t question me. I am the professional. I did not spend about a whole decade working and studying only for an overreacting brat to go on Google and self-diagnose himself with some fancy disorder. What do you think, that you have panic disorder? Some social anxiety issue? Phobias?”

The student cleared his throat. His heart hurt and his thoughts screamed at him not to do it but he pushed himself further and carefully tried again.

“I-uh.. um”, he curled up, clearing his throat as if to clear the words stuck in his mouth, clear this encounter and start all over again, “I thought it was-um.. uh t-trauma.”

The voice shot back.

“Thought it was what?”

It sounded so harsh. If verbal rope burn existed, this was it.  
No, no. He had to try, had to try and persist and make sure he had talked about it.

“Th-thought it was t-trauma. Trauma...yes..”

The giggle appeared again.

“Oh? You- you are too young for trauma, silly! The media has spoiled you all endlessly! Now, let me tell you a few nice things about how to deal with stress. I will tell you the secret to all your problems and I promise - the second you establish this mindset, you will walk around like the most confident man and you will thank me for it!”

Virgil could not believe it.  
Sure, the comments about Google stung a bit. The whole self-diagnosing shit hit too close to home because he had gone to therapy on the premise of being mentally ill and needing help for specific issues. He had even selected Doctor Picani based on his work with young people, depression and anxiety the most. According to his knowledge (this was more internet research), anxiety could cause him to feel as he did...  
But alas, if he said it was normal, he probably knew better. He probably knew fancy things the internet did not know.

“Oh- oh good!”

Emile chuckled and Virgil felt insane laughing with him. The relief reaching into his brain seemed to fog out his reason more. He was smoking his own doubts away.

“Yes, very good. Ah, Virgil. You have such an open mind - if I may say. I am sure you will establish my coping mechanism in no time! Now, this is called cognitive restructuring. If I am explaining this to you , maybe it will be clearer as to why I this is relevant. Anxiety makes you think a lot of stupid things that make absolutely no sense! You are not stupid, your anxiety is! Your anxiety lets you see bad things only, making you think you could have a lot of horrible illnesses like medical conditions or traumata, like you said!”

Virgil nodded slowly.  
That.. that sounded reasonable. He found himself stressing over possibilities and illnesses a lot. He felt as if he was close to dying when he panicked a lot and knowing it could be a condition only made him feel even more helpless. But.. but if he knew it was just stupid anxiety, this was good!

“Now, on to your stress. The stress makes you anxious - that is okay! We are all anxious all the time but that does not make us experts in anything. You need to use your anxiety to work harder! Now, this may sound a bit crazy but only because your mind is so distant to this concept~”

The student hesitated a bit, reluctance on his tongue.

“W-which concept?”

Emile hummed.  
He tasted the sweet victory of his rhetoric.

“The concept of motivation! Listen, we all think anxiety and stress are bad but it is not! Your body needs stress as in input. See, if your brain was like a computer, then anxiety is the demand you put in! Without demand, you would run empty and go into a stand-by mode! Buuuut! Your mind is a thinking machine and needs to be treated as such. Anxiety flushes your biological systems and helps you ward off sickness. This is why students are so healthy! Their workload and anxiety are so intense that it boosts their immune system.”

Virgil was caught up in the frenzy of Emile’s wonderful words.  
Boost his system? Healthy? He would not get sick? SCORE!  
In the back of his mind, doubt scratched at the door, reminding him of somatic complaints, sleepless nights and several visits to the doctor due to unexplainable anguish that wouldn’t stop.

“The only thing you have to do is understand that your anxiety is normal and absolutely great! It helps you get work done, fulfil your deadlines and be super productive in general! I bet you have a really active lifestyle and rarely ever get sick! How often do you come down with the flu?”

The addressed student reached into his foggy mind. Euphoria clouded his judgement.

“I uh.. I don’t get the flu. I -”

Emile clapped his hands, sending shock into Virgil’s bones.

“Perfect! See, anxiety is doing wonders for you!”

“I uh... do have a hectic life..”

The doctor threw his head back.

“What an amazing life! You must be doing so many interesting things! Now, I don’t want to hold you off any longer. Go, live your life! I will send your papers to the receptionist. Just wait a moment for the printer. It was lovely to see you~”

Virgil stood up.  
He was empty and his shoulders hurt but his dizzy self wobbled out of the head-spinning session. That was... he did not get therapy because he did not need it. He should have known better than to give himself hope and believe the internet. Of course he was making things up.  
Time to go home and sleep or just skip over that and work more.

Yeah.  
His anxiety was a gift.  
He had always been gifted.  
Talent, goal-oriented parents, intelligence and motivation.

**Author's Note:**

> End Note: This is not how a therapist should treat you. If someone treats you or your issues like that, please make sure you leave immediately and report this. A real therapist will validate your concerns and try to redirect your thoughts. If you have mental health issues, please reach out for help. Anxiety can have several different causes. It makes sense to contact a GP and work with a therapist and even psychiatrist if needed.


End file.
